


The Closing Hour

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Co-operation [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Spooks | MI-5
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 00:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8468791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Mycroft has a plan to trap the head mole.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's Fan Flashworks Amnesty Challenge "Seven" prompt

It was late afternoon when Mycroft appeared at 221B.  “I’ve done a deal with Ben Kaplan,” he said.   “There’s a chance of catching the mole who’s in the centre of the web.”  
  
“That’s a mixed metaphor,” Sherlock remarked.  
  
Mycroft waved a hand, whether in acknowledgement, or telling his brother to be silent wasn’t clear.  “I haven’t even spoken with Harry Pearce about this, so if it goes wrong, no-one will be any the wiser.  I have also instructed DI Lestrade to stay away until he hears from me.”  
  
“So the only ones who will know anything about this are the five of us in this room,” John Watson said.  
  
Anthea nodded.  
  
“I have arranged for Mr North to meet this particular person at seven o’clock by the riverside outside County Hall.  I have my suspicions as to who it will be, but as yet no proof.  On this occasion it will be too dangerous to wear a wire, so, Mr North, you will be on your own.”  
  
“Lucas,” Sherlock said.  “Are you sure you want to do it?  I can find another way.  You’ve not recovered from last night, you’ll be putting yourself at a disadvantage.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Lucas said.  “I’m quite prepared to take the risk.”  Lucas looked appraisingly at Mycroft, sure there was more than what had been said.  It made no sense to avoid bringing Harry in on the operation; he would be perfectly capable of denying any knowledge of it if it did go wrong.  Lucas supposed Mycroft could be considering Harry as the mole, but if that was the case then Lucas would be about the last person to be sent to contact him.  
  
“Good,” Mycroft said.  “Until seven tonight.”  
  
***  
  
It was just before seven when Lucas began to wander along by the Thames.  It was a pleasant evening, and he was able to mingle with the crowds who were out.  He knew Sherlock and John were somewhere within those crowds keeping an eye on him.  
  
He’d also met Greg Lestrade, who’d grinned when Lucas expressed his surprise he was there.  “I assured Mycroft there would be no police presence,” Greg had explained.  “I’m just here meeting with mates before going for a drink with them.”  
  
Lucas assumed Mycroft and Anthea were also somewhere in the vicinity, but he had not seen any sign of them.  
  
He heard Big Ben chime seven and forced himself not to tense up.  He had no idea who he was expected to meet, so would have to wait for someone to approach him.  As he waited he tried to imagine who it could be.  He didn’t doubt Connie would be running much of the operation from Moscow, but that would still require someone in London.  Someone who Ben had been passed to when Connie had fled.  Or even, Lucas realised with a start, someone who had told Connie to go, before she revealed his or her identity.  
  
Big Ben chimed the quarter, and Lucas wondered how long he would have to wait.  No doubt whoever he was meeting was observing him, waiting for a safe moment to approach.  He looked across the river and at that moment a quiet voice said, “Good evening, Lucas.”  
  
Lucas didn’t turn to face the speaker directly, instead he moved sufficiently to acknowledge his presence without apparently confronting him.  The man looked vaguely familiar, and Lucas rapidly thought back to when he had seen him.  
  
“I don’t need to give you my name,” the man said, “although I presume you know my position.”  
  
Lucas nodded.  They’d never been formally introduced, but he recognised the Home Secretary’s Principal Private Secretary.  
  
“I’m impressed you are here tonight,” the man continued.  “I was expecting you to be in a hospital bed, or worse.”  
  
“I think you’ll find I’m quite resilient.”  
  
“Indeed.  It was a rather unfortunate misunderstanding between myself and some of my subordinates.”  
  
Lucas snorted.  He could see no point in pretending to believe the statement.  
  
“Can we walk along a little?  I have a proposition to make and I wish to be sure we are not being overheard.”  
  
“If you wish.”  
  
The man steered Lucas along the side of the Thames before turning off into one of the small roads which led away from the river.  Lucas realised it would be much harder for those who were watching him to stay close without being spotted.  He heard Big Ben sound the half hour before they stopped walking.  
  
“This will do,” the man said.  “I think this is sufficiently private for my purpose.  I have an offer for you.  I know you are unhappy working for Section D.  You turned Zarmutek down, and, yes, you are right, the organisation was set up by the FSB.  But we can give you the position and the recognition you deserve.  If you stay here, you’ll always be treated as second best.  Accept my offer and everything you receive will be first class.”  
  
“And if I don’t?”  
  
“Then you will leave me no alternative.”  The man produced a gun.  “Think about it.  I admire your loyalty to date, but what has it brought you?  Nothing.  Who truly cares about you?  Harry Pearce doesn’t and Section D will carry on the same way whether you’re there or not.  So what have you got to lose?”  
  
“Everything,” Lucas answered.  
  
The man sneered and pointed the gun at Lucas.  “Very well,” he said, “But it seems a shame.”  
  
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  Mycroft’s voice was cold as he spoke.  
  
The man swung round, but Anthea was too quick for him and he crumpled in a heap.  
  
Lucas stood still, taken aback by the sudden turn of events.  
  
Mycroft smiled.  “I never doubted your loyalty, Mr North,” he said.  He shook Lucas’ hand.  “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”  
  
Lucas pointed to the Principal Private Secretary, who was still lying semi-conscious on the ground.  “What will happen to him?”  
  
“We’ll take good care of him,” Anthea replied.  She paused as Big Ben chimed for quarter to.  “And we had better be off, sir, before the absent police presence arrives.”  
  
Lucas watched in amazement as Anthea and Mycroft between them half-carried and half-dragged the man in the direction of wherever they had left their car.  
  
It was less than a minute later Sherlock, John and Greg arrived.  
  
“Did they make you an offer you couldn’t refuse?” John asked.  
  
“No,” Lucas said.  “He had completely miscalculated.  He had assumed there was no-one who either cared for me, or I cared for.  He was wrong.  For a start I have mates with whom I am about to go for a drink.”  
  
Greg laughed.  “Quite right!  The pub’s this way.”  
  
They set off, Greg and John leading the way, with Lucas and Sherlock following.  
  
“Anything else?” prompted Sherlock.  
  
In response Lucas slipped his hand into Sherlock’s.   As they reached the pub, Big Ben chimed eight o’clock.  
  
Lucas gave a sigh of relief.  “I am so glad that last hour is over.  I feel like I can start to move on now.  It’s been a really unpleasant case, but there have been some good things to come out of it.”  He grinned at Sherlock.  “And you, most certainly, are one of them.”  
  


 


End file.
